Aberrant and Acrimonious
by MyPhoenixLament
Summary: A collection of seven Pansy x Luna ficlets.
1. Of Ribbons and Honesty

**Author's Notes: **I have decided that it is best to combine all of my Pansy/Luna stories for 7spells (on LiveJournal) into one, organized collection. Therefore, what you are about to read is comprised of seven **unrelated** ficlets and drabbles revolving around the Pansy/Luna pairing. Each one will be in a separate "chapter". The titles are in **bold**, the prompts are in _italics_.

* * *

**Of Ribbons and Honesty**

_ribbon_

Pansy sits in the library with her legs folded beneath her, not crossed, because that's hardly proper when one is on the floor. Not that existing anywhere near the ground is proper, but she can stray only just so far from what she has been taught all her life. That's why her back is straight, even though she would rather lean it against the case of books behind her.

In her hands, she holds a ribbon that she pulls between each of her fingers in succession. It's pretty and satin, of a deep midnight blue, and she likes the way it feels as it brushes against her skin. This is all she can do with it: enjoy it as she is doing. Her hair is too short for her to successfully tie anything into it herself, and after all, the color doesn't become her because she's brunette now, and the blue would only lose itself in the brown. If she was blonde still, it wouldn't matter. But it looks better in Daphne Greengrass's hair, which is almost red, but not quite.

Pansy knows that this is why the ribbon is Daphne's and not hers. Slytherins know what they must have to flaunt what they already possess. Daphne is no exception, and perhaps this is why Pansy stole it from her: she doesn't believe she has any features worth drawing any attention to, so why should Daphne, her closest ally, have the ability to raise herself above those far and near and equal to her? (It hardly matters that this is also the Slytherin way.)

This is the reason why Pansy is sitting upon the library floor with her back pressed against nothing but stale air. She won't give the ribbon back, but she _will_ have to let it go, toss it away, because she has no use for it. In the library, a place in which no one will ever suspect her of lurking, she can have the ribbon to herself. She can feel it without having to covet it; she only covets the skill of wearing it, though such a feeling will disappear when the ribbon does the same. _Out of sight, out of mind._

All the same, (for she has no mirror), she brings her hands to her head and slides the ribbon beneath her hair. The ribbon's ends come upward of their own accord, and they tie themselves together, moving in what she wants to believe is a dance that is anything but mundane. But when she pauses, coexisting with the ribbon in her hair, she cannot forget what it looks like. She cannot cease to picture how foolish it must make her seem. So she curls her fingers as if into claws and she tears it out, tossing it onto the rug.

What she doesn't expect is the white hand that reaches down and grasps it, raising it to a pair of protuberant blue eyes. Pansy's gaze begins to first examine the weathered shoes of the newcomer, (the intruder and the thief), and then the hem of the robe beneath which they are partially concealed. Then her glance rises, slowly, to take in the black folds of the cloth and the blue of a Ravenclaw badge upon the subtly rounded rise and fall of a chest. Next comes hair of a shocking blonde that is parted into two sections. On one side, beside a radish earring, it is gathered with a ribbon that resembles the one which Pansy has just lost; the other side hangs in a curtain, free from ties.

Pansy hadn't even noticed her approach.

"Lovegood," the Slytherin growls, disconcerted at being caught. But this is only to be on form; she doesn't have anything against Luna Lovegood. Not really, even now.

Luna's eyes snap onto her, unblinking and startled, as if she has only just realized that someone else is there.

"I'm sorry," she says in a voice that is almost eerily calm. "Is this yours?"

Pansy hesitates, even though it shouldn't matter that she'll have to lie.

"I thought it might be mine," the Ravenclaw continues, and she doesn't notice the sudden conflict which Pansy is feeling because of her simple question. "Someone took one just like it from me this morning. She wasn't very nice." Now she looks at Pansy as if she is the only thing before her. "I don't think that you took it, though."

Pansy bites her lip. "It's not mine," she admits at length. She blames this confession upon the presence of Luna's blatant honesty. This isn't the first time she's borne witness to it.

"I didn't think so," is Luna's response. "You don't seem to like it very much."

"I don't." Another confession. "It doesn't look good." If she maintains this habit, she'll lose count.

"I think it's pretty," says the girl evenly. She holds the ribbon between her thumb and forefinger and brushes it across the back of the opposite hand. She feels it like Pansy has felt it, and appreciates it in the same way. But this is where the similarities cease, for the ribbon would be even more striking (and contrasting) woven into Luna's hair.

"On me," Pansy mutters. "You can have it. I don't want it." She feels better now that she has lied.

Luna frowns. "Oh no, I don't want it. I think you should keep it."

"I don't want it," Pansy says strongly, repeating her lie.

Luna ignores her in the calm manner that she seems to exude and pulls her wand from behind her ear. (Pansy hadn't noticed this before, either.) She runs its tip along the ribbon's length; in a wave, like ink seeping into wet parchment, the midnight blue lightens to the blue of a flower bathed in moonlight. Pansy almost expects it to drip with dye, and when Luna approaches her, she wonders if it will smell sweet.

It doesn't, though Pansy isn't disappointed. She prefers this shade to the one which it formerly was, though she won't say this aloud. Not to anyone who matters.

Luna's fingers deftly slip the ribbon under Pansy's hair and she brings the ends together above her head. She checks that they're even, tugging upon one side when she discovers that they're not, and then she ties them soundly. She rotates the ribbon round until the knot is obscured, where no one will see it, and she takes no more than a second to admire what she has done.

"I think that's better," Luna claims. She doesn't ask Pansy if she believes so as well, although there is no way for her to do so without first seeing her reflection. But somehow, she feels she doesn't need to. Pansy can picture it in her mind, and what she envisions is pleasing to her.

She thanks the Ravenclaw girl, though 'thank you' is something that rarely rests upon her tongue because it's never really necessary. Then she surprises herself by saying it again when Luna excuses herself (she has homework to do and there's some sort of creature that she has to find).

"Good luck," Pansy adds when Luna is almost gone. "With finding your ribbon, I mean."

Luna smiles, as if to say 'I already have,' but all the same, Pansy feels a flutter in the heart that lays somewhere deep inside her.


	2. The Only Adventure

**The Only Adventure  
**_the only adventure_

Never before has Pansy had an adventure, and she's never expected that she will. She knows that Luna has had plenty, being so close to Harry Potter these past two years or so; she's now nearly part of the Golden—what is it called when there's a group of six? Pansy knows all about the Department of Mysteries and the Hall of Prophecy and things like that, because Luna recounts her experience with eyes that are almost wider than usual; she talks so quickly and with so much excitement that in the end, both she and Pansy are left breathless.

Even though there aren't any stories left to tell now, Luna's disposition as of late suggests otherwise. It's as if there's one last adventure, the greatest of them all, that she's saving until the opportune moment arrives. Amusing though it may be to watch Luna babble on like she's distracted, (what she's saying lately hasn't come out quite right; it's all a rush of emotion), Pansy can't help but wonder at it.

So she corners her one day and asks her about it—demands an answer, and won't let go until she receives some sort of response. To her utmost surprise, Luna beams and seems to glow with tremors of excitement.

"Today," she says in a whisper, "we're going on the Only Adventure." Her voice is so quiet that it feels like Pansy's the only one that's supposed to hear what Luna says. (And Pansy knows that she is, even if this fact contradicts the simplicity of her statement.)

"The Only Adventure?" Pansy repeats in her normal tone. Luna hushes her and nods.

"That's what I've decided to name it."

"But why?"

"It will be your only adventure."

"Ever?" Pansy questions, though she's only teasing.

"I hope not." Of course, Luna answers as though she had been serious.

"So where are we going?" Pansy wants to know.

But Luna doesn't tell her. She takes Pansy's hand in her own and she leads her through the castle with more force and strength than Pansy has ever thought her capable of possessing. She ignores the looks of their peers as they fly through the corridors, though Pansy is somehow conscious of every one. And every one of these looks questions just what a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw (Parkinson and Lovegood, of all people) are doing together. Why they're holding hands. (Don't Slytherins always keep to themselves?) If Luna noticed them, Pansy wonders, would she come to a stop before each one and repeat, in the same hushed tone as before, that this is the Only Adventure? (Suddenly, Pansy is glad that there are some things that Luna doesn't notice.)

When Pansy thinks her heart or her lungs (or something) are about to burst, Luna's gait slows until she finally halts. The Slytherin is curious and hopeful, because after all, adventures are new to her, but all she sees is a great spans of walls before her. They are standing in a corridor that looks just like all the others they've passed as they journeyed to this one. Which is disappointing. She doesn't let it show entirely, though, because she doesn't like discouraging Luna. (Luna is the only one who has this sort of privilege.)

But after a moment, her spirits are restored, as Luna begins to walk once more, pacing at that one spot and looking like she's concentrating upon something that Pansy can't even attempt to fathom.

She doesn't pay close attention to the count, but she believes, when Luna abruptly stops, that she's paced three times. And by doing so, somehow she's made a door handle appear out of nowhere. (Hogwarts has far too many secrets for its own good.)

"Are you ready?" Luna asks her, and rests her hand upon the handle. Pansy is almost shocked to see that it doesn't simply pass straight through.

"For what?" she asks, though she already knows the answer.

"The Only Adventure."

Luna waits patiently until Pansy confirms that she is, in fact, ready. Then she slowly turns the handle, almost languid on purpose—but that's the sort of torture only Slytherins can conceive.

Pansy almost expects there to be nothing on the other side of this doorway that has appeared from the air, but she trusts Luna. She doesn't know why, and she knows that she shouldn't, but she does anyway; it's part of her adventure to go against these sorts of rules.

Instead of nothing, though, there's definitely something. Pansy doesn't even try to mask her surprise.

At first all she sees is green and blue, because the colors are so bright that they blind her for a moment. But as her eyes adjust and widen, and her mouth hangs more and more agape, she sees that the green is grass. There's grass stretching toward her through the doorway like beckoning fingers; it runs in all directions as far as she can see, sloping up the sides of hills whose tops greet the startlingly blue sky.

Without thinking, she steps inside—inside the room? It can't be a room. There are no walls and no ceilings or floors; there is no confinement of any kind. It's open and endless and—she inhales—it smells of freedom. She can feel the grass beneath her feet, even though she can't remember ever removing her shoes. It's soft grass, very much unlike the fields beside the park to which she used to sneak as a child.

"Where are we?" she breathes in an infuriatingly spellbound way.

Luna skips ahead, only three paces or so, and kicks off her shoes. "I've never been here before," she says calmly once she has finished. "So it's an adventure for both of us."

"Thanks," Pansy replies, feeling awkward. "But—"

But what? Luna has disappeared. Pansy falters, unsure.

"Boo!" Luna suddenly whispers loudly into her ear, and she jumps, her breath catching in a gasp. She wants to tell Luna that it's not funny, and why did she bring her here if she only means to scare her to death, but Luna starts talking again. Pansy hates the fact that she can't help but listen.

"We're going to swim. I hope you don't mind swimming. The lake is very nice."

"What lake?" Pansy wonders.

"Oh, it's just behind the tallest hill. Look."

Pansy looks, but all she sees are hills that look the same. "I don't see it."

"You will," Luna promises. She slides her pale fingers around Pansy's hand and pulls her forward. Again.

Not for long, though, because Pansy jerks back roughly and makes Luna whimper. She doesn't meant to hurt her; they're both stronger than they realize, she supposes.

"You said that you'd never been here before," Pansy accuses. "How can you know where you're going?"

Luna blinks at her. "I don't."

Startled, Pansy lets go, and Luna smiles as if she's forgotten that Pansy just nearly pulled her arm off. She decides not to ask for any more explanations; she knows that what she'll get as a response won't make any sense at all.

Luna takes her hand again, and Pansy allows herself to be led. They walk for a time as a silence settles upon them, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, until they near a hill whose sides are almost perpendicular to the ground. If they so desire, they can lean against it without having too far to fall. Pansy is tempted, but Luna doesn't stop.

Instead, she pulls Pansy along as they follow the curved line of the hill. Until they're staring at a lake.

Happily, the Ravenclaw skips—with the Slytherin in tow—to the water's edge. She peers at it for a moment, inspecting the reflection they're casting upon its surface. Then she laughs and takes another four bounds so that they're both immersed.

Pansy sputters. (Where has her say in matters gone? she wonders.) There's water in her mouth, and she spits it out; there's nothing but the liquid beneath her feet, for the lake bottom is far below. Not so far that she can't see it, though, because the lake is so clear that it's like they're swimming in the sky.

While Pansy flounders, Luna floats like a water nymph with her hair spread in a wide circle all around her. Her robes bubble as air is trapped beneath the fabric, but they don't weight her down.

"How are you doing that?" Pansy grumbles, expelling more water from her mouth.

"Maybe your clothes are too heavy."

It's annoying how Luna never answers her questions directly.

Pansy wrinkles her nose. She doesn't want to remove her clothing, but she doesn't want to drown either.

With a contemptuous glare—the Only Adventure, indeed!—she ducks beneath the surface and wriggles out of her robes. She pauses for a beat or so, her legs curled slightly toward her chest, and she hangs there, suspended in water that's like air. It's fascinating to watch her school uniform float in a dark body above her, like someone's been drowned. But no one's really there…

She loses herself in her thoughts and almost forgets to breathe. Almost, because she looks up and sees Luna's legs kicking and she remembers that she isn't a great swimmer. Pansy isn't, that is. She muses that Luna was probably born with gills.

Chuckling—she almost inhales and chokes—she paddles with her hands until she breaks above the water and takes a shuddery sort of breath. She hears Luna say something to her, but this time, she decides not to listen. Instead, she grasps Luna's shoulders and, with all her might, pushes her down into the water.

It would be funny to leave her there, she knows, and to wait until she comes bobbing up so that they can laugh together, but she decides to follow her. Even if Luna does have gills, she could still drown. (Maybe.)

But in the depths, Luna's not drowning at all. She's somersaulting and gliding and she looks like a nymph again. From time to time, she stands upright—walking on nothing—and her hair pools above her like white fire.

Dizzy from lack of air and something else, she claws her way to air again. Luna's close behind.

"You look…" Pansy says, panting.

Luna tilts her head to one side and a narrow rivulet of liquid trickles from her ear.

Pansy flushes. "You look pretty when you swim," she mutters, feeling stupid. (Because that's what she's being right now: stupid. She never compliments anyone.)

She feels too warm and submerges herself once more.

When she comes up again, Luna isn't wearing her robes. Pansy looks at her oddly, giving her the what-the-hell-are-you-doing stare that she's been practicing on the Gryffindors since she was eleven. She doesn't let her eyes travel below Luna's shoulders.

"What are you doing?" she demands.

"It's so you don't have to feel alone."

Pansy remembers that she's not wearing anything, either. (She's being stupid again.)

"Oh."

-oOo-

The next time, they go beneath the water together, and Pansy feels comfortable now that they're equal. (No one has the upper hand, which is better than her _not_ having it.)

It's funny, though, imagining what they both must look like, and Pansy wants to laugh.

But she doesn't.

Instead, she beckons Luna to her with a single, conspiring finger, and when she's close enough, Pansy pulls her into a kiss. Just in case they forget to breathe. This is an adventure, after all.


	3. Light and Darkness

**Light and Darkness**  
_artificial light_  


What Luna had never told anyone before was that she was afraid of the dark. It was not that she was ashamed of this fact, for she knew that everyone had their fears, rational or not. The reason she kept her secret as such was that, in fact, she believed _everyone_ viewed darkness in fear, just as she did. She had always thought it polite not to mention it in conversation because she did not wish to bore anyone with the redundancy of things they already knew. And, as no one else ever spoke of it, she decided that everyone shared her courtesy in regards to the matter.

What Luna had never realized was that no one else had a reason to be afraid. As she always slept with the lights switched on at home, and she never slept anywhere but in her own bed, there was no way for her to know that her sleeping habits were at all abnormal. At Hogwarts, after all, a charmed lantern had floated inside the hangings of her four poster bed, and none of her roommates had expressed any displeasure with it.

What Luna did not know was that the creatures which frightened her after the sun set were imaginary to everyone but her. She had never dreamed, in all her life, that she was the only person with a Flibbertigouch beneath her bed, waiting to grasp her ankles at the opportune moment. She could not even imagine that her home was the only abode that ever creaked at midnight when the Spatterpuffs settled into their nests after casting strange shadows onto her wall. And it was not possible at all, she knew, that her bathroom mirror was the only one haunted by the ghost of a Glass Whippleputt; she thought that everyone, late at night, had to back out of their bathrooms without blinking and then run into the nearest possible room, slamming the door forcefully.

What Luna _did_ know, however, was that these creatures were very real. She had seen them with her own eyes, after all, which she trusted more than anyone else's. She also knew that many others had seen them before, as well; why, if this were not true, then where would her father find stories for the _Quibbler_?

It was for these reasons that, the first night Pansy Parkinson slept at Luna's flat, Luna was completely and utterly confused. Of course, she had already been confused terribly that afternoon when Pansy had turned up outside her door, looking as though there was a Fweale snapping at her heels.

Luna had not seen Pansy since Hogwarts, which was admittedly not very long ago; but it was still long enough. And they had hardly spoken to each other at all at school; Luna had very few memories of her, and as she had stood blinking in the doorway with surprise, she could only remember that once she had stared at Pansy for a full minute, thinking how pretty her nose was. After inviting her inside, and a bit of thought had ensued, Luna had also recalled feeling sorry for Pansy because of her Malfoudra infestation. (She had snickered quietly at this, as it had once been her own private joke; she had never liked Draco Malfoy very much.)

Quite unexpectedly—as this whole affair seemed to be fond of progressing in such a way—Pansy had demanded to be allowed to stay until morning, and Luna, still exceptionally befuddled, had agreed.

What Pansy had not told her was that she liked to sleep in the deepest, blackest darkness that Luna could ever have imagined.

That was why, when Pansy hoped to tuck herself into bed that evening, she found herself annoyed that all the lights in the flat were still on.

"Lovegood," Pansy growled, pulling a pillow to cover half her face. "I'm trying to sleep."

Luna poked her head into the newly-annexed room and smiled. "Oh. Goodnight, then," she said cheerfully. "Don't let the Swirlabugs bite." She said this with the utmost sincerity, as living on her own was lonely, and she quite enjoyed having someone around to talk to. She would hate to lose the Slytherin to a herd of Swirlabugs.

"Turn off the lights," Pansy whined.

Luna blinked at her. "Why would I do that?"

"_Normal_ people sleep with the lights off."

Luna tried to be polite. "I'm sorry, Pansy, but I think you're mistaken. I always sleep with the lights on. It keeps the Flibbertigouches away."

Pansy snorted. "_I_ like them off," she declared, and she crossed her arms.

Not wanting to upset her guest, the Ravenclaw reluctantly switched off the lights, one by one. As each dimmed into shadows, her eyes grew wider and wider until she stood, terrified, at the end of Pansy's bed. There was darkness everywhere, and she could feel it crawling along her skin like a Peruvian Nargwort. She found herself frozen, unable to move even a fraction of a centimeter.

After a moment, Pansy sighed. "Are you _still_ there, Lovegood?" she asked in disbelief.

Luna could not answer.

"Lovegood!"

Luna managed a small squeak, after emitting which she clamped a hand over her mouth in horror. A squeak would summon the Tup Tups, who preyed upon distressed mice and fake radishes.

"Are you afraid of the dark?" Pansy inquired at length.

Luna gulped. "Aren't you?"

"No…"

What Pansy would never tell anyone, especially if she was asked or threatened, was that she was quickly warming to Luna's company. She was a refreshing reprieve after Pansy had escaped the naggings of her twittering mother, and she was at least entertaining to talk to, if nothing else. Pansy had no reason to wish her hostess ill-comfort.

Feeling thoughtful and uncommonly generous, she took her wand from beneath her pillow. "_Lumos_," she muttered, and then she waited carefully until a dust mote floated across the milky beam of light she had created.

At once, she smirked. "_Lumosa_," she purred.

Luna's eyes widened with wonderment now, instead of fear, as a glass-like globe emitting a golden glow erupted into Pansy's hands. It hummed slightly, bobbing up and down when she released it into the air.

"There," Pansy told her, smug. "That will keep the Flipper-whatevers away."

-

What Luna told Pansy the following morning, with excitement in her tone, was that she had had the most wonderful, restful, dream-filled sleep that could ever be experienced.

What Pansy told Luna, after much prompting and the bribe of another night in the flat, was that she had, too.


	4. Imaginary Beast

**Imaginary Beast  
**_so shaken as we are  
_

The corridors are quiet. _Too_ quiet, as the cliché goes. Pansy raises her chin in defiance of the unease in the air. She tries to keep her pace steady, and unconsciously, she touches the Prefect badge pinned to the front of her robes. It isn't as if she'll get into trouble, because no one knows that she's not patrolling the school like she's supposed to. No one knows that she only just slipped inside the castle after walking the perimeter of the grounds for an hour.

Pansy sniffs and bites down gently upon her lip, wiping her eyes though they are dry.

Suddenly, she hears footsteps that are not her own.

"Hello?" she calls, and then she adopts a more demanding tone. "Who's there?"

But there is _nothing_ there to reply to her query. Pansy casts a nervous glance at her surroundings, though since it's after dark, she can't see much. And when she swallows, she can almost hear the muscles in her throat.

Almost, because she hears something else first. Not footsteps this time, something quicker; something scuttling like an insect across a wooden surface.

There's still nothing there.

Pansy stifles a shriek, abandoning her Slytherin indifference as she stumbles forward. Whatever it is that's behind her is getting louder, as if it's following her…

She is near hysterics when the wall whispers to her softly. In spite of the circumstance, she stops dead, searching for the true source of the strange sound.

When she can't find it, she tries once more to hurry in her chosen direction, the one in which she wants to run. But she can't move. She can't go anywhere… She panics, losing all sense.

At once, Pansy feels herself being pulled forcefully toward the wall, a cool hand clasped over her mouth so that she can't cry out or scream. Though she expects to collide with something, _anything_ sturdy or solid, she doesn't. Pansy falls back comfortably through the air until she crashes against an object that is neither soft nor hard.

"Oomph!"

She jumps up as if burned.

"Ssshh."

Something slender is pressed against her lips, silencing any fears she wants to voice. It feels like a finger. Instinctively, Pansy reaches out roughly and curls her own fingers around what is nearest to her; it's a wrist, and then an arm and a hand.

"Who are you?" she hisses.

"Ssshhh… We mustn't be found." The voice is soft and musical, full of fright and whimsy all at once. It's familiar.

"Lovego—?"

Pansy freezes. The footsteps are rattling, thundering, shaking whatever filthy cupboard or room they're in.

"What _is_ that?" she squeaks, shuffling backward. Her body quivers as the floor begins to bend beneath her.

"It's a Flompwurt," Luna tells her with a small gasp at the very thought.

"A _what_?"

"_Ssshhh_…"

"It's not real!"

"You let it inside. It's only natural for it to follow you."

"I can't see—"

Pansy almost screams; just in time, Luna keeps her quiet. The air outside the door pulses and glitters like a landscape in the desert sun. There's a phantom monster, and it's right there, passing by them. Right there. _Right there_. Her mind panics.

Pansy clutches at her chest where her heart probably is. She can't feel it beating, though she knows it must be fluttering so quickly that it is now emitting but one single, prolonged pulsation. Her eyes are round and she can't blink until this creature, this—whatever Lovegood called it—is gone.

And then, all of a sudden, it stops.

The tension in the air dissipates like a sigh at last being released. Without realizing it, Pansy puts her head on Luna's shoulder. Her hands are shaking, and Luna trembles. They remain that way, so shaken as they are, and wait for the certain disappearance of the imaginary beast.


	5. The Water Song

**Author's Notes: **The lyrics to Luna's Water Song are written by me, to the tune of Altan's _The Jug of Punch_.

* * *

**The Water Song  
**_a drinking song_  


"_Oh, the water does splash and play  
Glittering as gold by the light of day…_"

Pansy is almost to Care of Magical Creatures when she hears it: a soft and whimsical tune that she does not recognize sung by a voice that is just as unfamiliar. She stops with the intent of lingering only a moment; not because her next class is worth attending, (because it isn't, and everyone knows that). It's because she's fallen behind her classmates and she doesn't like being alone. However, her intents and purposes are shattered, for when she listens, she cannot stop.

"_Oh, the water does splash and play  
Glittering as gold by the light of day.  
And then it falls there, upon the stones,  
Dampening the earth and the fairy homes…_"

Pansy shakes her head and blinks quickly; each time her eyes close, the spell dissipates a little more, until she's free.

The tune now becomes a wordless hum. She supposes it's an interlude between verses.

"_When the leaves start to drip with dew,  
I may close my eyes and think thoughts of you…_"

She holds her hands over her ears and takes a sluggish step in the direction of Hagrid's hut. She thinks the song will go away if she moves, but as it so happens, it's only louder here. Then again, she's never been good at guessing games.

"_When the leaves start to drip with dew,  
I may close my eyes and think thoughts of you…_"

Pansy scowls, hoping that the tall flowers beside her will wilt.

"_Thus I remember the days gone by  
When we sang and danced with the river nigh…_"

They don't, and the song is only becoming stranger. If she listens to it any longer, she thinks she will go mad. Clenching her hands into fists, she otherwise stands still until she can pinpoint the origin of the song.

There is a willow tree, a weeping one, whose wispy leaves trail into the Black Lake. The direction fits, and as Pansy can see no one else, she decides that whoever is singing is doing so within the safety of its branches. She fights back a sinister smirk and strides toward it.

"_Sometimes whilst laughing, I cup my palms  
'Neath the misty skies and forget my qualms…_"

When she reaches the tree, she pushes the living green curtain aside.

"Shut up!" she orders at once.

"Excuse me?" The singer steps out from behind the thin trunk.

Of course, it just _has_ to be Lovegood… Pansy holds her head high, feeling a prickling sensation in her cheeks. Lovegood may be insane, but she's also pretty in a somewhat appealing sort of way.

"Why aren't you in class?" Pansy fumbles.

"I can't go to class right now," Lovegood answers in a dreamy voice. "Professor McGonagall has been possessed by Nitfits, and they're fond of spreading. I tried to warn everyone, but they just laughed at me. I don't see what's so funny. Secondhand Nitfits can be just as harmful."

Pansy scowls. "And so, what, now you're singing a stupid song to keep them away?"

Luna blinks at her slowly. "What a silly idea!" she laughs. "Don't you know that Nitfits are deaf?"

"Then why are you singing?"

"Don't you mean _what_ am I singing?"

"What?" Pansy stares at her.

"_Why_ is quite simple once you know _What_."

"Then what is it?"

"The Water Song," Luna proclaims happily. "You sing it when you drink water. My mother and I always drank water together before she died."

Pansy gapes at her. "But that's completely m—!"

"It's lovely, isn't it?" Luna beams. She looks so pleased, it's almost comical. "Everyone sings when they're drinking alcohol, but they never realize that that only invites Taggles. This way, it's quite safe!"

There's really nothing for Pansy to say without feeling redundant, so instead of speaking, she takes the time to notice the cup in Luna's hands.

"Would you like some, too?" The Ravenclaw doesn't wait for a reply before squatting beside the lake and scooping out a cupful of murky water.

Pansy shrinks back in horror. "That's disgusting!"

"No, it's not. I washed my cup."

The Slytherin snorts in amusement. "It's not the cup, you dolt! It's the water!"

She is only met with confusion. "But it's just _water_. I don't see what's wrong." To prove her point, she raises the cup to her lips and drinks. There are echoes of singing inside of it once it has been emptied.

"_Sometimes whilst laughing, I cup my palms  
'Neath the misty skies and forget my qualms…_"

"No wonder you're mental."

Suddenly, Luna drops the cup and reaches out, grasping Pansy's hands.

"What the _hell_?"

She skips in a circle, dragging Pansy with her. "This is my favorite part!" she whispers loudly, and then she tilts her head back, shouting the remaining lyrics as loudly as she can.

"_And then they fill up with dragon tears  
That will quench my thirst ere the thunder nears,  
(La da dum da day…)_"

-oOo-

At dinner that night, Pansy hums to herself, paying no mind to her meal.

"What are you singing?" Draco demands in disgust.

She blinks and shrugs, and then reaches for a glass of water. She glances at the Ravenclaw table with a smile.


	6. Revelations of the Blind

**Revelations of the Blind**  
_the blind leading the blind_

In Pansy's word, her new world, the blind lead the blind. Pansy leads Luna and Luna leads Pansy, because neither of them has lived this way of life before.

Pansy loves it. She loves that, while she doesn't always know _who_ will lead and who will follow, she knows that _one_ of them will, and that's enough. She loves that it isn't always up to her to be the strongest and the best, and that Luna's there to hold her hand when Pansy's too stubborn to move forward.

And she loves that Luna tells her impossible stories, babbles on about impossible creatures, and that she doesn't have to worry about her reputation shattering because she enjoys them. She loves that this is freedom, and that whatever Pansy's parents do, they can't take it away from her.

When Pansy finally decides that she's in love with Luna, she realizes that she's felt that way for a long time already. She just hasn't noticed until now—though it could just be that she didn't want to before.


	7. One Day Without Hindrance

**One Day Without Hindrance  
**_candle in the window_

One day, they're walking. Walking through the park upon a path that's lined with trees. Pansy has her hair tucked carefully inside of her hat, ebony being the color of the day. Luna lets her hair hang free, and it dances in the wind to its full potential; Pansy doesn't want to think about the knots Luna will need to untangle once they return home, and how difficult it would be, right now, for Pansy to run her fingers through them.

Luna hums quietly to herself, a small smile fixed upon her lips. Every few steps she takes have a slight bounce to them, as if she's skipping yet not. This makes Pansy giggle, something she doesn't often do in the company of others—or even when she's on her own.

They don't talk much; simply being, and being _together_, is, more often than not, enough. They share smiles of a secretive kind, looks that might mean nothing to some and the wrong thing to everyone else. Expressions of affection that are safe to do in a world that tries to understand, but doesn't. More often than not, they don't mind this so much. Outside, they can walk together, talk together, like the best of friends. Inside, they can press their lips together, sleep together, and no one will know or see.

Except for one moment one day, when suddenly, that _isn't_ enough. That day is when Luna abruptly stops smiling; her mouth turns downward in a frown, and her eyes are even more thoughtful than they were just before. Her steps slow and then cease, until she's paused in the middle of the path, in the middle of the trees and a park that's always so peaceful.

"Do you see that, Pansy?" she asks softly.

Pansy looks, following the line of Luna's gaze. It doesn't take long for her to notice the man and woman walking along the same path as they are, holding hands and laughing.

Pansy pretends she doesn't see them. "What, the…" She looks round quickly. "That branch? Up there? I think it looks very stupid; someone should cut it down."

"Oh, not the branch," Luna says serenely, as if she doesn't know that Pansy is lying. "Though someone really should cut it down, because it's probably infested with Limpurts. I meant those people."

"Which people?" Pansy asks lamely. She doesn't like thinking about those who can do things that she can't, people who have what she has but can flaunt it all they like.

Luna blinks at her. "They're coming toward us. They look very happy."

Pansy scowls as the woman leans over to the man and kisses his cheek.

"I think we should do that sometime."

"We _do_, Luna," Pansy frowns. "We've done a lot more than just hold hands like lovesick idiots."

"I know. What we do is nice. I like it very much. But I think we should do something where other people can see us. We never do that. I don't know why."

"Because girls aren't _supposed_ to like other girls," Pansy growls.

"I don't like other girls," Luna tells her, looking confused. "I like _you_."

Pansy's cheeks color themselves pink. "Yeah, well, we're supposed to like boys," she fumbles.

"I've liked boys," Luna says thoughtfully. "Ronald was funny, and Harry Potter was always very helpful. I liked them." She tilts her head subtly to one side. "I never kissed them. I've kissed you."

Pansy doesn't know what she can say without feeling foolish. She doesn't know how to explain something to Luna that's supposed to be mutually understood. But then again, maybe it never was. Maybe, Pansy thinks suddenly, Luna's never minded being who she is. She's never really cared that she's different, or even noticed, for that matter.

"I like liking you," Luna continues, "and I think that people should know. Daddy always says that people should be able to know things, even if all they do is ignore them."

"I don't _want_ people to know!" Pansy snaps, and Luna looks hurt. "What do you expect them to do? It's not like they would actually _ignore_ us! Not with you being you and me being me. They already think it's weird enough that we _talk_ to each other!" She lets out a humorless laugh.

"Do they?" Luna raises her already raised eyebrows. "That's quite strange of them."

"No, it's not. _Don't you get it_? If you started, I don't know, _snogging_ me right now—"

"We would be like a candle in the window," Luna finishes smoothly.

Pansy stares at her. "We'd _what_?"

"We would be like a candle in the window," Luna repeats loudly and slowly. She doesn't realize that Pansy heard her clearly the first time. "When it's dark, everyone can see it burning. It brings light to everything around it."

Pansy blinks, and her mouth falls open, just a bit.

"That's why I _am_ going to start kissing you right now, Pansy Parkinson," Luna tells her determinedly. "I don't think we should stay in the dark."

Pansy can stop her, but right now, she doesn't know whether or not she should. Luna always says things as if they're so simple, even if they really aren't and only serve to confuse.

Luna kisses her deeply in a way that used to surprise Pansy, because she never knew that someone with the innocence of a child could feel so much. Now, on this one day, it's almost a surprise again. Luna's lips are soft against hers, and they're enchanting in a way that she's never been able to explain, even to herself. Pansy allows herself to fall limp, acquiescing to what she wants and what Luna wants because maybe this is what they deserve.

One day, they're kissing. Kissing in the park upon a path that's lined with trees, with a man and a woman and the Earth to serve as witnesses. A spark ignites, a candle is lit, and it's placed in the window so that someday, maybe everyone else will see.


End file.
